


Refuge

by LUC1FORM



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, PJO/MCU, Percy Jackson is a Dork, Percy Jackson/Avengers Crossover, Percy Jackson/MCU crossover, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene, Post-The Trials of Apollo, crossover fic, multiverse au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 10:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LUC1FORM/pseuds/LUC1FORM
Summary: Peter Parker is trapped.Identity outed to the world, he flees home, only to realize nowhere is safe when Aunt May, his lifeline, is shot, and Mysterio seemingly returned from the dead. With the FBI and the media out for him, and no way home, he also has to contend with a nightmare arising before his own eyes.Percy Jackson is reluctant.He was having a great college summer with Annabeth, only to be called back from California to hunt down a demon, who, rumor has it, has escaped from Tartarus and has pegged Queens, New York as their next target. It wasn't on his itinerary, but he's not about to let anyone take away what he loves.Imperfect and scarred, maybe neither of them are the heroes the world wants them to be, but they aren't about to back down without a fight.Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney/Marvel Studios and Rick Riordan.Kudos + comment if you like please!!
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Kudos: 22





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I am SO excited to share this with you! It's been a little idea nagging at me for about a week, so I wrote down the beginnings, and a big vision is growing as I write this. I haven't decided how they both exist in the same universe/dimension (Did they cross through a nexus point? Is there a world where they both exist? Was Peter pushed into a different dimension, maybe, through the effects of the M-Day we're all waiting for?), and, as of now, I don't know, given that we're waiting on Doctor Strange: The Multiverse of Madness, but for now, it's up to you! PS, this takes place like 20 min after Far From Home.  
> Comments and kudos would be MUCH appreciated if you're as excited about where this could go as I am!! Just keep any comments clean pls :)  
> Set fire to the stars,  
> LUC1FORM

Peter Parker, like a true hero, had locked himself into the bathroom.

He was not one to have an anxiety attack, but now seemed like a good time as ever to shut himself out from the world. He looked out the window (why did the bathroom have a window?) and slammed the blinds shut, heart racing.

“Peter? Peter, open up.” Aunt May banged on the door. “Come on, sweetheart, I know you’re scared, but we can deal with this, okay? Peter? PETER!”

“They’re going to find me,” Peter said. He couldn’t believe how much of a coward he was. “Aunt May, we’re not safe here. _You’re_ not safe here!”

_It’s all my fault._

He could hear her sigh from the other side of the door. “Peter, please. It’s going to be okay. Just open-”

A strange laugh bubbled out of his lips. “No, no, it’s not going to be okay. _Nothing_ is okay right now!” He stripped off the rest of the suit—he had already removed the mask—and dumped it in the cabinets below the sink, which were a mess of piping and dripping water.

He could recall the past few hours quite clearly. Panic had washed over him like a wave, and he had suddenly become aware of all eyes on him. Most faces were clear open books: Pity, surprise, disbelief, and the worst ones, horror, alarm, and disgust. How many of them knew who he was? 

MJ had kept her calm, though. She had mouthed _run_ at him quite clearly.

So he had.

On the couch, his phone started pinging furiously. Texts from MJ and Ned flew across the screen. _Peter? Peter, you good? Are you at home? Should I come over? Do you need me to wipe the school records?_

A small part of him really, really wanted to pick up, but instead, hardly knowing what he was doing, muted it. 

“Peter, please.” said Aunt May. There was a silence where neither of them spoke, and then Aunt May said, “Peter, I swear to god, we might not have much time left to stay in this building. And I sure as heck won’t be serving you dinner if you don’t get out right now.”

Peter’s stomach growled. He’d been sitting on the tiled floor for a good hour or so. He could imagine what had been going on at home with a fair amount of certainty. Maybe May and Happy had been sorting out their relationship, deciding if they wanted to go out on a date, and perhaps had turned on the TV to flip through the channels. May had called Peter a few minutes after he had seen the news himself.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly, opening the door. He looked around. “Happy’s gone?” Usually, he liked Happy’s company, but he was the last person he wanted to see right about now.

“Yeah, he’s gone.” Aunt May looked him up and down. “Aw, come here.” She grabbed him and forcibly hugged him.

“Stop,” Peter said, his face mushed against Aunt May’s sweater, but he sank into her hug anyway. “You’re squishing me.”

“I’m your aunt. I can squish you any time I like.”

“Well, now’s a bad time,” Peter said, pulling away. He stared at the black screen of the television.

“You want me to turn it on? I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Pete,” said Aunt May, following his gaze.

“I want to know,” he said. The weight of the reveal was sinking in, like someone had just low-key dropped the sky on him. Hiding his alter-identity had been a point of great importance. Who knew what kind of trouble with the law would come with being a vigilante?

“Peter. Listen to me,” said Aunt May, steering him into the kitchen. “The government won’t go looking for you until they’ve checked their sources, and given that the video was released on TheDailyBugle.net of all places, we at least will have a couple hours.”

“Everyone knows,” Peter said. “ _Everyone._ Like, my entire school, everyone you work with. We’re done for. And now that there’s no superhero in the picture, suddenly all this violence is not okay. And who’s to blame for it? Me.”

“No, we’re not,” said Aunt May stiffly. “Hey, want a cookie?”

“No,” said Peter dejectedly, taking the cookie and shoving the entire thing into his mouth. It didn’t taste as sweet as he had hoped.

Anxiety wormed its way into his head. _What’s everyone going to think of me? How am I going to go back to school? Am I going to be mobbed if I leave the apartment?_

Peter suddenly felt very claustrophobic. He stared into the silver backsplash behind the stove and saw his own face reflected back at him, worry lined creased into his skin. He made a halfhearted attempt to flatten his hair, which was sticking up in strange places.

“Aunt May...can I leave the apartment?”

She turned around, startled. “Well, I can’t stop you from sneaking away, can I?”

“That’—that’s not what I meant,” he replied, feeling his face heat up. “People are going to find our apartment soon enough.”

Aunt May sat down. “Peter. Did people stalk Tony Stark when he stood up and declared himself to be Iron Man?”

“That’s different!” he said. “He’s Tony Stark!”

_He was._

Peter found himself struggling not to choke up. Why couldn’t Mr. Stark be here? He would’ve known what to do. Aunt May and Happy didn’t get his situation. MJ and Ned were his friends, not adults. 

He found a thought worming its way into his heart: _maybe I’m not a hero after all_.

“Hey, come here,” said Aunt May, gesturing to the spot beside her. He hesitantly sat down next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About just being revealed to the entire world? Or being accused of murder?” He answered his own question. “Not really.” 

He stared out of the window at the cars going by on the street below. How many of them knew his identity out of a clip on TV already? And how many would know by tomorrow? And how many would accuse him of Mysterio’s murder?

He pulled out his phone. There were a total of one hundred and forty-seven unread messages, all from Ned and MJ. He unmuted his phone and quickly typed back on their group chat.

**Losers**

**July 2, 2023 at 5:43 pm ET**

**Ned:** Peter

 **Ned:** Peter, you there? I’ve been texting you for the last 30 min

 **MJ:** Peter, if you don’t respond rn I’m going to fill you

 **Ned:** Fill u???

 **MJ:** Kill you

 **MJ:** Autocorrect, man’s worst invention

 **Peter:** Yeah I’m here stop spamming

A stream of texts piled in as soon as he had announced his presence. 

**Ned:** Peter whats going on so confused

 **MJ:** I’m coming over 

Peter choked. _That’s really not necessary,_ he typed out. _Too late,_ MJ texted back. _You come here or I come there._

“One second,” Peter said to Aunt May. He tapped on MJ’s icon as he dashed to his room and flung himself on his bed. His FaceTime request was immediately accepted.

“MJ! You are _not_ coming over right now!” He protested.

He could see her raise an eyebrow over the screen. The sun cast a golden glow over her warm almond skin; she was standing out on her porch.

“Oh yeah? Try and stop me,” she said. “I’m going to start walking right now. You sure you don’t want Ned to disable the screens around town?”

“Ah, no,” he said, dropping the phone in the process. “I'm not leaving my room.”

“Nice poster,” said MJ, her voice muffled by the sheets. The camera was facing up towards his ceiling, where he had a copy of the original _Star Wars: A New Hope_ poster on the ceiling. 

“Shut up,” said Peter, setting the phone against a lamp and beginning to pace. “I don’t even know if I can leave the apartment.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said MJ. “You’re not going to be tried for murder if you walk out of your front door.”

“Yeah, but MJ, do you know what I can be accused of? Mass murder. Domestic terrorism. It’s all suddenly me.”

“Peter, you’re sixteen. What’s the worst that’s gonna happen, they’re gonna stick you in Juvie?”

“MJ!”

“What, it’s the truth!”

If Peter Parker had been a normal teenager, he might have believed her. Now, he wasn't so sure.

He rolled over onto his bed. “Oh, man, what are the teachers gonna say? It sounds like something from a book. No, what’s Flash gonna say?”

“Trust me, he won’t say anything,” said MJ reassuringly. “If he does, I’ll tape his mouth shut and then wash it out with soap.”

“And probably be expelled,” offered Peter.

“Nah, they need me on the decathlon team. Hey, at least they know you were, like, saving the world when you missed that meet.”

“Don’t remind me,” said Peter. He was going to have life regrets on that one.

“Oh, I looked up TheDailyBugle.net,” said MJ all of a sudden. “Controversial is to put it kindly.”

“What, don’t tell me they’re some sleazy right-wing idiots,” said Peter. “They’re already enough of those.”

MJ snorted. “Nah, but they’ve been dissing Spiderman for a while now. Dunno what’s their deal. They seem like some moderately-accurate at best sensationalist website. Maybe a little sleazy.”

“Yeah. Sleazy,” Peter echoed. He was thinking about E.D.I.T.H. He’d handed it over to Aunt May for safekeeping, not sure he was ready to take up that mantle after blundering through Prague and Venice, believing in a fraud of a man, and trusting him, only to have the perspective reversed and himself framed.

“Why don’t you meet us tonight?” MJ asked. “Me and Ned. Come on, it’ll do you some good. Besides, I want a cake pop.”

“You want a—actually, never mind. And I’m not-”

“Yes, you are. Ten thirty, Starbucks.”

Peter put up his hands in surrender. “Hold it, which Starbucks?”

MJ made something that sounded in between a laugh and a sigh. “The one off 64th, idiot. See you then.”

“Wait-” began Peter, but MJ had already disconnected the line.

“Peter?” Aunt May called from the other room. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “I guess I _am_ going out tonight.”

  
  


Five hours later, Peter opened the window in the kitchen. Warm night air swept in, making the curtains around the frame flutter. Aunt May was in her bedroom with a book. The only light came from her reading light.

Peter looked out the window at the occasional car passing under the dim glow of the streetlamps, wondering what was in store for him.

Then he had a sudden thought: how was he supposed to go out if the entire city knew who he was and was probably looking for him? It wasn’t like he could put on his Spiderman costume, just swing out the window, and hope no one would notice him anymore.

He decided to just wear his oversized Midtown sweatshirt, which included a hood, and hesitantly left his web fluid beneath the sink cabinet with his suit, momentarily looking into the mirror and slicking his hair back with water, not wanting to look more weird than usual in front of MJ.

He pulled the window all the way open, struggling with the fact he’d never seen it open, ever, likely because it was half as heavy as a car. He pulled his legs over the sill when a tingle came over him. He turned around hastily and lost balance, falling out of the window.

“Uh...Peter, honey?” Aunt May looked down at him as he fell with an audible _thump_ into the tree two stories down.

Peter shook the leaves out of his face. “Belgh. Uh, I’m fine. Just, going out…”

“Okay,” said Aunt May. “Be back before twelve, alright?”

“Sure,” he said, dislodging himself from various branches and dropping the last ten or so feet to the ground.

He checked that no one was looking, and then jumped onto the flat roof of the next apartment over, too worried that someone might see his face if he walked, but also concerned that he might be recognized if he was spotted swinging around Queens. 

MJ and Ned looked up at him as he landed on the Starbucks rooftop and pulled down his hood. 

“Your hair looks like a disaster,” MJ said. Peter flushed and chose to ignore this, because he had tried to flatten it knowing that MJ would look. So much for his plan to impress her.

“What took you so long?” Ned demanded when he landed hastily behind the building. “Starbucks closes at eleven!”

“Geez, sorry,” Peter said sarcastically. “Just dealing with life-threatening problems here and trying to avoid the law.”

“Okay, sorry,” said Ned. “But if I don’t get MJ a cake pop, she’s gonna kill me.”

“Yeah, she is,” said MJ, who had evidently gotten bored and was already sipping a drink. She stirred the ice cubes around with her straw.

“I tried to talk her out of the straw, but she wasn’t having it,” said Ned dismally. 

“Man,” said Peter. “I think the last time I had a cake pop was when I was twelve.”

“Heathen,” said MJ.

“I’ve never even _had_ a cake pop,” said Ned.

“Disgrace,” said MJ.

“We’re not here for the cake pops, but I promise you, one day you will get them,” said MJ. “You brought your computer?”

“Yep,” said Ned.

“May I ask what you’re trying to do?” asked Peter.  
MJ scoffed. “Save your skin from the FBI, obviously.”

Peter was glad for their company, but also felt Mysterio’s words appearing in the back of his mind, telling him that it was a pity that his friends had to die. It was like cold hands grasping his heart all over again.

“You do realize that people are going to start looking for you next?” he said. “I told you what Mysterio said to me. And at school-”

“We can just deny ever knowing your identity,” said MJ. “It’s not like we’re the ones disappearing at intermittent intervals.”

“Or we could sign up for witness protection,” said Ned hopefully.

“Oh, I never thought of that,” said Peter, momentarily distracted. “That would be kind of cool.”

“I know, right!” agreed Ned enthusiastically. He turned to MJ. “So, what’s your grand plan? Should I hack into the school’s security cameras? We have some extra time, because I-”

MJ shot him a clear warning look.

“You did what?” asked Peter.

Ned looked at MJ and shrugged helplessly. “Deleted all your records of basically everything from the internet.”

Of course he did. Peter did appreciate it, but it also backed him up into a tight corner. With no records, Peter Parker looked like someone who didn’t want to be found. Someone guilty. Despite Ned’s good intentions, this could be used against him easily. He put his head in his hands. “I screwed up really bad this time. I screwed it up for me, and May, and you guys-”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” said MJ. “It’s that-” she rattled off a list of foul expletives, all of them adjectives and grammatically correct “-of a wannabe hero, Beck. Can’t blame you for a thing.”

“And also that reporter,” added Ned. “You know, that guy with the alliteration going on for him?”

Peter had to crack a wry grin at that. “Who names their kid with just a ton of Js?”

MJ snorted. “An idiot, that’s who.”

Peter looked up. “You know you guys are awesome, right?”

“Yeah?” MJ and Ned said unanimously.

“You also know that you can’t really help me, right?”

MJ and Ned exchanged glances. “What do you mean, we can’t help you?” said Ned. “Of course we can. I’m the guy in the chair, remember?”

Peter’s lips quirked upwards. “Right, but it’s not like you can remove that video from the internet-”

“We probably could,” said MJ, looking at Ned for agreement. He nodded and shrugged.

“-Or get that Jameson guy to take back what he said, or mind wipe everyone across the country, or, for that matter, bring Mysterio back to life in order to un-frame me somehow,” Peter finished. 

“Do you at least know how he edited that video?” asked Ned hopefully. “When did he do it? Did he do it himself, or get someone else to do it? Was it before his death, or after his death? And who is this ‘anonymous London source?’”

“I don’t know!” Peter burst out, growing more aggravated as the words spilled out. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know anything anymore. I’m not—I’m not like Doctor Strange, I’m not like Wanda, and I’ll never be half of Mr. Stark. I’m not some all knowing being. I can’t even get my summer homework done!” He looked at MJ and Ned’s startled expressions. “Sorry. You probably didn’t want to hear that.”

“No, I’d be stressed if it was me, too,” said Ned. “Can't say I get it, but I get it as much as I can.”

“Come on,” said MJ. “Starbucks closes in eleven minutes. Cake pops on me.”

  
  


_These are better than anticipated,_ Peter thought as he discarded the stick the cake pop had been on, feeling a little better. _Apart from the fact that this is probably uncooked dough and there is a chance I could get food poisoning from having too many of these_.

He had made it back to the apartment unnoticed, and seeing that the window was left open, he had a clear path in. He leaped into the tree, standing up and walking an extended branch like a tightrope, and then from there jumped and grabbed the windowsill.

As he climbed through the window, he felt a little prick of doubt snag inside of him. A warning, but not quite like his—for lack of a better word, ‘Peter tingle’, as May called it—more like a little sign that something was amiss.

Peter, though, chose to ignore it, because he was already having a bad day and was about ready to start hyperventilating.

He flicked on the kitchen light and made a halfhearted attempt to close the window, but decided to leave it in any position it wanted to fall in. Summer air wasn’t going to try and frame him for murder.

“Peter? You back?” Aunt May’s sleepy voice drifted in from her bedroom. She shuffled out to greet him. He noticed she hadn’t changed out of day clothes yet and still had her reading glasses on.

“Yeah,” he said. “And I made it without being arrested.”

“Peter, don’t talk like that,” May said. “Maybe you should get started on your summer assignments. Something with a little sense of normalcy, you know?” 

“Can’t believe you’re not telling me to go to bed,” said Peter, drowsiness hitting him like a wave. He couldn't believe how _tired_ he was.

“It’s been a rough day,” said Aunt May, brushing the comment aside. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Peter felt that sensation again, like a shiver crawling up his spine. And then came the tingle, the snap of awareness, sharp.

_There was someone else in the apartment._

In these kinds of moments, time always seemed to go out on a leisurely stroll. It was almost like he had super speed instead of super strength because it seemed like the world moved around while he was frozen to his spot on the floor.

With his enhanced hearing, Peter had time to register the tiny, hushed sound that escaped when a gun with a silencer was fired, and, by some sort of primal instinct, the one that kicked in during fights, stepped out of the way.

Peter did not have time to warn Aunt May.

Time must have clicked back into regular speed, because a second later, he heard a soft gasp. May sank to the floor, looking down at a little red hole in her chest in disbelief, and her eyes fluttered shut. 

“Aunt May!” He ran to her side. “Can you hear me?” Blood had begun forming a sticky patch on her shirt. Panic jolted him awake. He needed to save her. He needed to turn around.

He whipped around and all of his reflexes failed him. Not a single one of his enhanced abilities could have prevented him from the jolt of shock he experienced.

The man looked the same as he remembered. Same beard, same cool, blue eyes. Standing behind his kitchen counter, gun in hand, and in regular clothes, was someone who had just torn his life apart.

“Mysterio?”


	2. Percy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might not update as regularly as my other works, but I'll post two chapters to get you started!

Percy’s day was going great until he got the call.

Well, not call, exactly. Iris message, of course.

He had been sitting out in the New Rome College lawn with Annabeth, soaking up the sun. Although technically they were on their three-week summer break, Annabeth had coaxed him into extra classes for credit.

“Man, this has got to be the least chaotic summer I’ve ever had,” said Percy, laying down in the grass. Although the wind insisted on blowing in slightly chilly air from the San Francisco Bay, which he could smell from where he sat, the sun was beating down on the two of them.

Annabeth fiddled with her hair. “I suppose it is.”

“No monsters, no quests, no imminent danger,” he sighed happily. It was almost too good to be true.

Correction: It  _ was  _ too good to be true.

He looked over at Annabeth, who looked a little uncomfortable. “What, you like imminent danger?”

She dropped the strand of hair. “No, no, it’s great. It’s just...so weird, you know? Never thought I’d be the one saying this, but every time I feel like we’ve settled into a nice, regular rhythm, something always disrupts it. We’ve had a great year, and nothing has gone wrong.”

“Yeah, so?” said Percy. “Come on, Wise Girl, we’re living the California dream here.”

“I  _ know _ ,” she said, sitting forward. “That’s exactly it. I just can’t seem to accept it. It sounds weirder aloud than in my head, but it’s too good. Too good to be true. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” said Percy. “Yeah, I guess I do. Huh. I always thought I’d be the one having that dialogue come out of my mouth. I mean, I can actually sit  _ still _ . I haven’t sat still since, like, I don’t even know.”

“Too good to be true,” echoed Annabeth.

“Well,” said Percy nonchalantly. “Best appreciate it while it lasts, then.”

Annabeth looked at him, then started laughing. “Appreciate? You?”

“Wow, thanks for your vote of assurance.”

“You’re welcome, Seaweed Brain.”

“I mean, come to think of it, we’ve only been to San Francisco like twice this entire year. We’re just living in this wonderful, dumb paradise,” said Percy happily. “And it’s great. Although-”

Annabeth shook her head. She knew what was coming next.

“I really  _ did  _ want to see if there were sharks in the bay.”

“Percy, you’ve been saying that for the entire year!”

“Yeah, I know,” said Percy, folding his arms. “And I haven’t even tried it. It’s just sharks, it’s not like they’re going to hurt me or anything.”

“Percy, how long is it going to take you to figure out the ocean isn’t all  _ Finding Nemo _ ?!”

“Annabeth, you know I love  _ Finding Nemo _ . That’s not fair,” he said, mocking disapprovement.

She made a sort of exasperated grin at him and instead changed the topic, asking, “Where’s Ms. O’Leary?”

Percy shrugged. “I don’t know, somewhere in Camp Jupiter. Probably eating all of the cabbages.”

“Cabbages?” Annabeth repeated helplessly. “Of all things-”

“I thought of cabbages, I know,” said Percy. “Cut me some slack, okay? I haven’t done anything this year except mush my brain full of knowledge. I’m a little stuffed up with information already to make sense of what comes out of my mouth.”

“Cabbages,” Annabeth said disapprovingly.

“Yes, cabbages,” said Percy. “C-A-B-B-”

Annabeth tackled him and they went rolling in the grass. Dirt sprayed up around them. Percy plucked up some dew from a nearby leaf and dropped it right on her face.

“Really?” She slid the drop off her nose.

“That grass was sharp,” said Percy in defense. “There’s a reason it’s called blades of grass, you know.”

Annabeth dusted herself off and put her hands on her hips. “Then explain to me why Walt Whitman named his collection on poetry  _ Leaves of Grass _ .”

“Because he’s a weirdo? Look, I don’t know!”

Annabeth stared straight at the sky. “Hear that, Apollo? Percy just called Walt Whitman a weirdo. Back me up on this one, please.”

Apollo was clearly too busy to notice either of them.

“Come on, Annabeth. Like you said, we might as well have what time we can get. I really want to swim in the bay.”

She shook her head. “You go. I’m not swimming in a place known for it’s crazy rip currents. Maybe there’s some irritable water god below the Golden Gate, but I’m not going to find out.”

“Huh,” said Percy. “I never thought of that.”

  
  


Twenty minutes and quite a bit of traffic later, they had mutually settled on hanging around Pier 39 where Percy could get his water, lapping up on a rocky shore, and Annabeth could get mini donuts.

“Hey, want to look at the seals?” Percy offered. “It’s July; there’s got to be hundreds of them hanging around the docks.”

“Seals smell,” said Annabeth, wrinkling her nose. “But if you insist, I won’t be the one to ruin this outing.”

Turns out, she didn’t need to be the one.

As they walked past a planter of tulips, a rainbow of mist shimmered into appearance in front of them. An Iris Message.

_ Perfect timing _ , thought Percy irritably. He looked around, making sure everyone’s eyes were going past them. 

A voiceover played from the rainbow, making the mist move like sound waves, shimmering. “You have an incoming call. To receive, please pay five drachmas.”

Percy fished around in his pockets and tossed in three. He looked at Annabeth for assistance. 

“I’ve got two.” she said. She tossed them to Percy, who caught them. They vanished through the mist.

“I've always wondered where those go,” said Percy, as the arch of water droplets melted, and an image flickered into view.

Two familiar, concerned-looking faces appeared. Percy could easily see that they were standing in the strawberry fields at Camp Half-Blood. If he squinted, he could vaguely make out the Big House in the background.

“Hey, Nico. Will,” he said. Nico looked taller than since Percy had seen him last, and it looked like Will’s stubborn, sunshiney personality had rubbed off on him, because Nico was looking less scruffy/emo. His olive skin had gotten a shade or two darker, evidently from the sun, but Will looked the same: Blonde, gangly, freckled, and tanned.

“Hi, Percy,” said Will. “Oh, and Annabeth. Sorry to bother you, but we’ve got a bit of an urgent matter on our hands.”

“A really big bit of matter,” added Nico. “Like, a Hades level problem.”

“Nico, shut up,” said Will. “Sorry. But yeah, it’s bad.”

“Well,” said Annabeth, a little reluctantly, “We’re listening.”

“So, uh,” said Will, floundering a bit on how to proceed. Nico took over.

“Do you know what demons are?”

“Well, yeah,” said Percy. “Big, scary, evil, different from daemons.”

“You’re aware that Tartarus houses a couple?”

Percy blinked. Then he looked at Annabeth, who was frowning. She had a certain expression for the frustration of not knowing something, and the face she was making was most definitely that expression.

“..No?” he said uncertainly.

“Well, it does,” said Nico, brushing the comment aside. “Now, there’s a very specific subclassification of demons found in Tartarus that would commonly be recognized as devils.”

“Like, red and horny?”

“Depends,” said Nico. “See, the thing is, it’s not like devils haven’t ever affected mortals. Because they have, and that’s where you get all those stories of selling your soul at crossroads. But what popular culture has got wrong is that there isn’t just one. The most recognized idea is like a ton of different demons rolled into one. Their grasp doesn’t quite encompass everything. Like I said, they’re a subclassification of demons with certain attributes. They have a physical form, while demons often choose a host. They’re bigger, and much wittier. That’s what makes them so dangerous: their way with words. Their persuasion.”

“And you’re saying…” said Percy, dread coiling in his stomach.

“He’s saying that one has escaped Tartarus.”

Annabeth frowned again. 

“Stop frowning, Wise Girl, you’re going to get worry lines.”

“Percy, shut up,” she said. “Really; I mean it.” She looked over at Will and Nico through the rainbow. “What about everyone at Camp?”

“There aren’t a lot of people here this summer,” said Nico. “I mean, enough, but less than usual, given that all the kids are being claimed by their age, for the most part. And most of them aren’t returning campers, much less have any experience tracking down a literal demon.”

“So, we could really use a hand,” finished Will. “Chiron told us to call; don’t kill the messenger.”

“ _ Messengers _ ,” corrected Nico, folding his arms.

So now Percy and Annabeth were wanted to drop their extra credit courses, plus any nice summer plans they had, and make for New York. Then they would have to find a devil, return it to Tartarus, and make up their lost coursework.

“Oh, wait,” said Will. “Nico, didn’t you say you felt some shade displacement, too?”

“Right,” said Nico. “We think-”

“ _ You  _ think-” said Will.

“Fine;  _ I  _ think that some shades followed this demon out of the Underworld. There’s at least one, maybe a couple more. The thing is, escaped shades don’t know what to do with themselves, so either they’re going to find someone they know to haunt, or they’re going to look for the nearest source of power to serve.”

“And that would likely be the demon,” summarized Will.

Percy was really, really not excited about this.

“Maybe you could-” began Percy.

Annabeth stepped on his foot.

“Great,” said Percy. “Sounds great.”

Annabeth backed up to cover him. “Luckily, we have a little less of a workload over the summer, and I’m sure that as long as we don’t procrastinate, we can get both matters covered.”

Percy felt like this was a personal attack and obvious insult to his exceptional procrastination skills.

“When do you need us there?” asked Annabeth.

“A-S-A-P,” said Nico.

Will looked at him, mildly disgusted. “Did you just spell out ASAP?”

“Yeah?”

“You can’t  _ spell out  _ ASAP, you philistine.”

Nico scoffed. “Oh, did you just call me a philistine? I have an  _ immense  _ appreciation for art.”

“Oh, really?”

“We’ll be there,” said Annabeth hastily.

Just then, the image froze. “Please insert five more drachmas for an extended period of talking. The rates are-”

“We’re done,” said Percy. The message vanished.

The two of them hailed a cab and made their way back to New Rome, and from there, Camp Jupiter, nestled comfortably in the Oakland Hills. The most efficient way of travel to New York would be shadow-travel, and they knew just the dog.

“Hey, Ms O’Leary,” Percy called, walking towards the stables, where they had left her. She made a happy noise and jumped at them so aggressively, he was nearly knocked off his feet. “Want to go on vacation?”

As they made their way out, Annabeth nearly ran into Hazel.

“Oh, hello,” she said, looking a little startled at their sudden arrival and departure. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah,” said Percy. “Duty calls.”

She smiled, sunlight turning her frizzy curls bronze. “Well, good luck.”

Percy and Annabeth grabbed onto Ms. O’Leary’s fur, after Percy had bribed her with the promise of snacks and coaxed her into working her shadow-travel magic for the two of them.

Just before they took off, Annabeth looked at him. “Just so you know, you’re not getting out of finishing your coursework.”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” said Percy.

The pair, plus Ms. O’Leary, stood up in the damp grass. The same bright sun shone over the East Coast, too, apparently. Annabeth took a moment to blink the spots out of her eyes--she wasn’t quite as comfortable with shadow travel, Percy noted.

“Percy! Annabeth!” Will was waving to them from a couple yards away, a couple of rows of strawberries over. Nico stood next to him, framed exactly like in their call, while Ms. O’Leary sauntered away towards the cabins.

Annabeth and Percy carefully stepped over a couple bushes, Annabeth stopping to pick one. “You know, I went to camp for years, and never once ate one of the homegrown strawberries.”

“Cheers,” said Percy, picking one. They were small, and looked very organic. He and Annabeth popped them into their mouths as they made their way over to Will and Nico.

“So,” asked Percy. “What’s the game plan?”

“As counselors, we’re supposed to leave the camp as little as possible,” said Will. “Which means that you two are going to do the hunting, and Nico here will be doing the tracking.”

“I can feel it, a little bit, but it’s not strong,” said Nico. “It’s a very powerful creature, which means it can conceal itself well. As of now, I’m not sure about the shades, but I’m sure they won’t be too far from our devil.”

“Okay,” said Percy. “So, do you have any leads?”

“See, the thing is,” said Nico. “It hasn’t revealed itself at all. It’s in the state, but I don’t know where.”

“Is there somewhere else we should start?” asked Annabeth, ever the diplomat. Percy was getting antsy.

“Well,” said Nico. “I’m no expert in exorcism, but one of the shades has made its presence known. I expect it won’t take too long for the others to emerge as well.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Percy.

“You won’t,” said Will.

Nico shot him a look. “So, this shade must be near the demon, wherever they are, because it has found a host body. We don’t even know if the host body is alive or dead, but wherever it is, it’s found one. Which is not something shades can usually do.”

“Okay, where do you have it at?” asked Annabeth.

“44th street, near Queens Boulevard,” said Nico. “Be careful. We don’t know they extend of it’s capabilities in a host body.”

Percy and Annabeth turned to go, but Percy turned back. “Does this demon have a name, by any chance?” They all knew names had power, and whoever had it wielded it, but, of course, it could also be used against them.

Nico looked around to make sure no one was listening, although it would do little good anyway. He dropped his voice.

“Yeah. They call him Mephisto."   
  



End file.
